


Beef Jerky

by Etwas_Schlau



Category: Steven Universe (Cartoon)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Convenience Store, Alternate Universe - Werewolf, Animal Transformation, Awkward Romance, F/F, I Don't Even Know, Implied Jasper/Peridot (Steven Universe), Mutual Pining, Obsessive Behavior, One Shot, POV Second Person, Plotbunnies, Present Tense, Supernatural Elements, Were-Creatures, Wolf Pack
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-13
Updated: 2017-08-13
Packaged: 2018-12-15 00:31:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,842
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11794692
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Etwas_Schlau/pseuds/Etwas_Schlau
Summary: Lapis Lazuli has seen many things during her time working at a 24-hour convenience store, but she's never seen anyone quite like the blonde-haired, green-eyed girl who buys beef jerky by the armful at three in the morning.





	Beef Jerky

**Author's Note:**

> beef jerky is fucken expensive, yo. 
> 
> I wrote this mess in two hours while listening to Jagged Little Pill on repeat because I'm putting off the things I should be doing lmao. I don't even know anymore. just, enjoy?
> 
> yell at me on tumblr at comrade-schlau.tumblr.com

The first time she breezes in the shop it’s past three in the morning on a rainy Thursday. You scarcely notice her short, green-clad figure when she stumbles through the door. Compared to some of the people you’ve seen in these parts, her far-away eyes and tall, tangled mess of peroxide blonde hair are nothing short of average.

You’ve almost forgotten she had come in when she emerges from an aisle with an armful of overpriced snacks. She’s already wrist-deep in a large pack of beef jerky, tearing into the meat like she hasn’t eaten in weeks. You silently scan her protein bars, Red Bull, and popcorn and she reluctantly slides the half-empty bag of jerky across the counter. You say nothing as you ring it up.

“Your total is twenty-eight fifty.”

She moves in slow motion like she’s just witnessed a murder, withdrawing her wallet from mud-splattered jeans and sliding her card. You watch her as she taps through the checkout process on the payment terminal, typing in her PIN as if the world is spinning in reverse.

Her receipt prints. You’re about to bag her purchases when she gathers everything in her arms and turns away. She leaves the store and you’re left holding the tiny bill out to empty air. You throw the receipt away.

About an hour after she’s left you realize she didn’t even have a car.

**~*~**

The second time you see her she’s wearing a hoodie and a pair of low-cut shorts that reach her knees because they’re about two sizes too big for her. Directly beneath her right kneecap you see a gnarled, ugly scar wrapping all the way around her leg and she’s limping like it’s her first time walking.

You almost want to ask her what happened. Her eyes are bloodshot, framed by lavender half-moons, and you assume she doesn’t want to talk about it. She dumps five bags of beef jerky in front of you.

“Give me a pack of Parliaments,” she breathes, staring into the scuffed counter as if it holds the answers to all of life’s question.

“We don’t carry Parliaments.”

“Marlboro, then.”

You squint at her. “I’m going to need to see some ID.”

She lifts her smaragdine gaze to yours. “Why?”

Your brows furrow in confusion. “Because you have to be eighteen to buy cigarettes?”

She looks almost offended, but offers up her driver’s license anyway. _Peridot Olivine,_ you note. She’s twenty-three, the same age as you, and you’re genuinely surprised but you hand the card back, spinning around to retrieve a pack of Marlboros.

“Fifty-one seventy,” you declare, making a point of bagging the items this time.

She pays quietly and you want to say something else but you don’t know what. Anything to make the weary, offbeat girl stay just a minute longer so you can look at her, figure her out.

Instead you slip the receipt in the bag and push it across the counter alongside her cigarettes. “Have a good night.”

She doesn’t reply. The bell on the door jingles and instead of walking away she stops outside, leaning against the front glass as she lights a cigarette. She coughs violently and you wonder if it's her first time smoking. You watch her with interest because you’ve never seen anyone like her; the manner with which she moves, calculated yet unsteady, and the infinite pools of her eyes, always gazing distantly.

She disappears before you know it and you almost miss her when she’s gone.

**~*~**

One night when the full moon is shining through the glass storefront, she limps inside coated with blood. She’s accompanied by a massive woman with vitiligo and ash blonde hair and you fear what she’s gotten herself into.

“You should do it,” the athletic woman prods, continuing a previous conversation, as they depart to the other side of the store. “I know you can.”

“I didn’t say I couldn’t, I said I don’t want to.”

You lean sideways to spy on the two of them in the snack aisle, huddled close with skin on skin. Are your ears deceiving you or did the tall one just growl?

“You could be so much more!”

“I’m fine where I am. I’m busy enough, I don’t need the added responsibility of babysitting everyone.” She looks frustrated and tired, face stony and harsh.

“Ditch work, you don’t need that shit to survive!”

“I’m not like you, Jasper!” She bursts out, eyes alight and teeth bared.

The other woman makes a guttural, almost inhuman noise and towers over Peridot, fingers curling in anger. She whines and looks at the floor, nuzzling her head against Jasper’s neck. You watch, puzzled and disgusted, as she licks the blonde’s face and jaw like a puppy meeting its owner for the first time. _What the fuck is going on?_

Hushed words pass between the women and then they’re browsing the shelves as if nothing happened. They approach the counter with beef jerky like normal customers and you try to ignore the way the one called Jasper eyes you with predatory amber orbs.

“Forty-four seventy-five,” you mutter, staring at the floor as Jasper pays with a shiny credit card.

They leave, glued to each others' sides like lovers and you don’t know what to think anymore.

**~*~**

It’s a month before she returns, earlier in the night than usual. She looks anxious and on-edge, hands shaking slightly. You swear she’s taller than the last time you saw her, shoulders broader and arms more toned. She staggers to the register, staring at you with panicked, blown pupils.

“I- I need, a pack of Marlboros,” she chokes out, breathing shaky.

“Are you okay?” you ask apprehensively.

“Just, p-please. The cigarettes.”

You collect the smokes and ring her up, eyes never leaving her unsteady frame. Tentatively, you gently place a comforting hand on her arm. She reacts instantly, baring her teeth and lunging forward at you like a rattlesnake. Her canine teeth are longer and sharper than any you’ve ever seen and you stumble backwards into the cigarette display behind the counter.

“Get away from me!” she roars, eyes squinting shut and hands raking down her scrunched face. She abruptly cries out in agony, falling to her knees and writhing like she’s being exorcised.

You’re paralyzed in terror where you stand, watching the woman flail. She fights her way to her feet, steadying herself on the counter as the bones in her hands pop unnaturally. You can see her fingers metamorphose before your eyes, nails hardening into dark, pointed claws. The light hair on her knuckles thickens exponentially, darkening into brindled grey fur and she shakes her head furiously.

“No, no, no!” she growls, panting. The bone structure of her face begins to shift like tectonic plates moving within the earth and she snarls, more animal than human. She whirls around on her heel, charging at the door and shattering the glass like it’s tissue paper. Body shifting, the woman dashes from the parking lot and out of view, leaving you to blink in shock in the empty convenience store.

_What just happened?_

**~*~**

Months pass without a single disturbance and you eventually convince yourself you imagined the woman. Nothing more than sleep-deprived delusions, of course. You still marvel at how real everything had felt. Those piercing green eyes, to think they were nothing more than your mind’s fabrication leaves a hollow feeling in your chest. But werewolves aren’t real; you know there’s no way the terrifying transformation you thought you witnessed truly happened. Right?

You continue working at the gas station much longer than you’d originally planned. When your friend Pearl offers you a job at her office, you decline. You tell yourself you simply don’t have the skills to work in a professional business scene, but you know that’s a lie. Deep down, you keep on hoping that you’ll see her again. Hoping it was real after all.

A year passes, then two, then five, then ten. Your apartment becomes crammed full of thick, ancient books detailing occult superstitions and magic. Most days you stay up when you should be sleeping for your graveyard work shift, spending countless hours browsing obscure corners of the internet for information on supernatural occurrences. You make posts across multiple social media platforms asking users to let you know if they’ve seen Peridot. You check your notifications obsessively but you never get any response.

You join an online forum of individuals who believe they’ve come in contact with the paranormal. You feel more grounded when you read the tales of others with similar experiences and decide to share your own story. You detail every memory you have of the peroxide-blonde woman with the affinity for beef jerky. Strangers from across the world sympathise with you and your restless soul calms for the first time in years.

That evening you march into work with your name badge in your hands. You stand behind the register as always, awaiting your manager’s arrival to announce that you quit. You’re thirty-three years old and you finally have closure; you no longer have a reason to work at a tiny street corner convenience store.

Suddenly, time seems to stop as a green-eyed, blonde-haired woman dressed in green plaid breezes in the shop. Your jaw drops and you practically jump over the counter to get to her.

“Peridot Olivine,” you call. She pauses and turns, dark eyes softening in recognition.

Her gaze drifts to your nametag. “Lapis Lazuli,” she replies simply.

“You’re real…” you state in awe.

She chuckles. “Was there ever any doubt?”

“You’re a werewolf, of course there was doubt!”

She sighs, smiling gently. “Can’t let that go, can you?”

“I- I’ve spent a decade looking for you. I thought I was insane when you never came back.”

She rubs her neck almost sheepishly. “I got… caught up in some things.”

The silence is cloying, tension palpable. “So, beef jerky?” you ask, smirking.

She smiles back at you with a playful eye roll. “You know me so well.”

You watch her walk to the snack section you first saw her visit all those years ago. She grabs a few packages of jerky from the shelf and places them on the counter. You ring the order up and hand her the receipt, unsure what to say.

She takes her bag and looks at you for a long time. “Do you… want to get coffee, or something?” she whispers.

You nod. “Y-yeah, that’d be good.”

She takes a pen from a display by the register, scribbling something on the back of the receipt and sliding it back across the counter. Placing a hand on the door, she turns back to you and cracks a wide grin that shows off her carnivore fangs.

“Call me.”

With that she vanishes just like she had on the first night you’d ever laid eyes on her. You stare at the space she’d been occupying long after she’s out of sight. You glance down at the phone number before you, and you smile like you’ve never smiled before.


End file.
